


The Switch And The Spurs

by mcnegan



Category: The Salvation (2014)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcnegan/pseuds/mcnegan
Summary: Henry returns to town to claim the body of his dead brother and return his widowed bride to her family, though things don’t go as smoothly as planned.
Relationships: Henry Delarue/Madelaine (The Salvation)
Kudos: 4





	The Switch And The Spurs

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story.)

Onlookers watch in uneasy and skeptical silence as the intimidating man dismounts his massive, dark horse just outside the rundown saloon. His tall leather boots kick up clouds of dust as he strides to the porch, his long maroon coat billowing behind him as he walks. From beneath the wide brim of his black hat, he offers only a nod in the direction of the mayor.

“It’s a sad day, Mr. Delarue,” the aged man offers, receiving no response.

The small group gathered around the corpse inside turns their attention as Henry steps into the room. A thick mustache obscures his upper lip and cascades over the corners of his mouth where it ends at the sharp edge of his jawline, though the dark scruff does little to hide the displeased set of his wide mouth. Henry strolls towards the body spread across the table beneath the sheet, hoping for the sake of the townspeople that he doesn’t recognize the person underneath. As expected, when he flips the sheet back, Henry is met with the sight of his younger brother, Paul. His jaw clenches in rage as he observes the gray pallor of his sibling’s face.

“I need to know who killed my brother,” Henry announces in a deep and monotonous voice. “My brother’s widow is to be escorted back to her family. I’ll be back in a week’s time and I expect you to have found my brother’s killer. And Sheriff,” he adds, looking up to the addressed individual, “I want that man alive.”

“That’s impossible,” the sheriff stutters fretfully.

Hearing the man’s refusal, Henry pulls the pistol from the holster against his hip. He cocks the weapon and the threatening sound fills the small room. Though he doesn’t raise the gun and merely holds it at his side, the message is just the same.

“You are a man of God, Sheriff. I’m sure you’ve heard the words of the Lord. ‘ _A tooth for a tooth_ ’,” Henry offers with a cold smile. The sheriff nods in understanding before Henry furthers his request. “You have until next week to find the man who did this, or you bring me two of your people…”

The sheriff is quick to argue with Henry, fear prompting him to interrupt the man’s simple request. Before he has a chance to debate, Henry raises his voice and cuts him off.

“You choose two…or I will take four,” Henry assures before turning around with a slight tip of his hat. “Afternoon, gentleman.”

• • • • • • • • • •

Madelaine hears the thumping of heavy boots and the jingling of spurs crossing her wooden porch before the loud knock echoes through her home. Turning to the locked door, she makes no move to answer it. When the visitor knocks again, she stands up and approaches the door cautiously. She wipes a tear from her slightly swollen eyes as she unlocks the door and swings it open.

Much to her surprise, she glances up to find a tall, broad man who vaguely resembles her late husband. She’d never met the man, but she can only assume him to be her husband’s brother, Henry. Taking in his appearance, she flicks her eyes from his wide hat, down the blue vest decorated with bronze buttons and a gold chain fob she imagines is attached to an ornate pocket watch, all the way to his thick belt, dingy pants, and leather boots. Without so much as a greeting or introduction, the man in front of her interrupts her perusal, demanding that she gather her belongings and come with him.

“I can’t,” she counters immediately. “Not until they find the man who killed Paul. My husband is to be buried here, I’m not going to leave.”

Henry’s face darkens slightly as he takes a short step through the doorway into Madelaine’s home. He towers over her, only adding to how imposing he is as he invades her space.

“You can make this as difficult or as easy as you want, Madelaine. Either way you are coming with me. So you can fetch your things and do as you’re told, or I can toss you over my shoulder, tether you to my saddle as little more than a haversack, and you’ll leave here penniless without so much as a scrap of cloth to your name,” Henry gruffs peevishly.

Madelaine is taken aback by the man’s brusque words and her affronted expression is evident of that. She’s never been spoken to so rudely before in her life and she’s unsure how to react. Knowing better than to talk back, she lifts the hem of her dress from around her feet and crosses the room to collect her belongings. Grabbing a heavy pack, she begins filling it with several dresses and various possessions she can’t bear to leave behind.

“Get me a glass of water,” Henry demands from where he remains looming in the doorway.

The sound of his deep voice startles Madelaine and she freezes. Glancing up at the man, she sees the seriousness in his eyes and decides ignoring his request isn’t going to go over well. Dropping the bundle of cloth she’s holding, she obeys his gruff instruction. From the shelf, she grabs a grimy glass and brings it to the sink where she pushes and pulls the handle of the water pump until a slow trickle of water begins. Placing the glass under the stream, she catches the flow of liquid until the cup is full.

Walking hastily to Henry, Madelaine offers him the glass, his fingers brushing hers as he takes it from her. Henry watches her intently as he gulps the quenching liquid loudly, droplets clinging to the hairs of his thick mustache. His pink tongue peeks out to lick the corner of his mouth and gather a stray drop of water before he slams the glass down on a table next to him.

“Trip’s too long for you to ride side-saddle. Suggest you find some pants,” Henry states before stepping outside and slamming the door behind him.

Madelaine sets about searching through the chest of drawers, looking for something suitable to wear. She slips into some of her late husband’s clothes, though most of it is too large and baggy to fit comfortably. Cinching a belt around the loose waist of a pair of brown trousers, she pulls on a pair of thick socks to prevent her feet from slipping out of the over-sized boots she finds in the corner. With a long piece of ribbon, she ties up her thick chestnut curls before slinging her bag over her shoulder and stomping outside where Henry waits with two horses, looking bored and impatient.

“You ever ridden before?” he asks, seemingly already annoyed with Madelaine, though she has yet to give him a reason to feel so much animosity towards her.

She shakes her head in opposition, listening intently as Henry teaches her the basics of utilizing the thin reins to control a horse. When he’s finished, Madelaine shoves a booted foot into the stirrup and tries to lift herself, though she can’t manage to mount her horse. Henry grabs her from behind, gripping her hips and shoving her upwards into the saddle. His warm palm lingers against her thigh until she situates herself. He hands her the reins and pats the antsy horse on the neck as he looks up at her from beneath his hat.

“We got a long ride ahead of us and I won’t have any complaint or objection, ya hear? You do as I say, when I say. Are we in agreement?” he implores in a husky tone, pleased when Madelaine nods in submission. “I thought we would be.”

Turning his back on her, Henry mounts his own horse and clicks his tongue. He raises his hand and flicks his fingers forwards, directing her to kick her horse into motion and follow him along the dirt road and out of town. Madelaine glances longingly at the burial ground where she knows her husband’s body lies as they ride past the outskirts of town. She wants to stay here rather than be dragged home by Henry, though she knows she has no choice.

“Let him rest in peace, Princess,” he mutters, surprising Madelaine with his use of her nickname.

Sighing in defeat, she lowers her eyes to her hands. Tears drip onto the saddle as her horse paces along slowly and the image of her small hometown gradually slips away and disappears into the horizon.

• • • • • • • • • •

Darkness is falling and Madelaine’s head lolls slightly with each jarring step from the beast beneath her. She’s exhausted, thirsty, and covered in a sheen of sweat from being in the blazing sun for hours on end. Sweeping her parched tongue across her chapped lips, she calls out raspily to the man riding a few feet away.

“Can we stop?” she croaks as loudly as she can.

“No. We need to get a few more miles behind us if we expect to get you home by week’s end,” he counters.

She rolls her eyes, suddenly too tired and cranky to keep herself in line. “No, we need to stop, Henry. I don’t care when we get there,” she retorts, nearly whimpering.

Henry halts his horse instantly, reaching for the bridle of his companion’s mount and pulling her horse close enough that he can stare down at her with uncomfortable proximity. Grabbing her chin to whip her head in his direction, each one of Henry’s angry words that pass from his mouth puff a wave of warm air across Madelaine’s shock-parted lips.

“Woman, what in God’s name did I tell you about whining? You quit carrying on or I’ll leave you out here for the buzzards to eat,” Henry warns. “Your husband is gone and I’m taking care of you now, that means you damn well better listen to me.”

He glares at her for a long moment, daring her to speak again. Madelaine merely blinks rapidly before nodding her head as much as she can in the man’s tight grip. He tosses her head to the side as he pushes her face away and prods his horse to carry on across the vast, arid ground. Madelaine falls silent, barely keeping herself upright as Henry forces them to continue their arduous trek.

After a while longer, Henry decides they’ve gone far enough for one day. They stop to set up camp, settling in for the night under a small cluster of decaying trees. Henry tethers the horses to a tree before removing their saddles and placing them on the ground. He begins breaking branches off of the nearby trees as he gathers wood for a fire. Pulling out a lighter and bags of dried fruit, he tosses a bag to Madelaine before igniting the branches piled on the ground.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” she prompts as she chews thoughtfully on her food, not seeing a bedroll tied to either one of their saddles.

“On the ground, Princess,” Henry offers, purposely spitting her familiar nickname with an extra dose of derision.

Madelaine watches as Henry props his back against his saddle and pulls the wide brim of his hat down over his face. With his arms crossed over his chest, he easily settles in for the night, leaving her to sit alone in silence as she tries to find a comfortable position to lay on the hard, dusty ground. As the night grows colder, Madelaine scoots her body closer to the tiny, crackling fire, though it does little to warm her shivering form. Her nose begins to run and she sniffles softly every few minutes, something Henry catches on to quickly. Lifting his hat and opening only one eye, he observes the sniveling girl for a moment. Once he’s determined that she isn’t crying, he can only assume she must be freezing. 

Sighing deeply, Henry lifts himself from the ground, removes his coat, and rounds the campfire to approach Madelaine. He drops the heavy material of his purple duster over her body before wordlessly returning to his prone position. Madelaine pulls the proffered coat tightly around her chilly arms, basking in the residual heat from Henry’s body. Tucking her face beneath the collar, she inhales the scent of sweat and gunpowder as she somehow manages to slip into a light slumber.

The sound of shuffling rouses Madelaine the next morning and she blinks her bleary eyes, opening them to find Henry already up and preparing for the next leg of their long trip. He kicks his tall boots through the smoldering fire, dousing the glowing embers and sending a shower of ash across the ground. He pays no attention to Madelaine as she rises from the ground, stretching her painfully sore muscles and joints. She hands him back his coat once he finishes saddling the horses and in return he offers her water from his canteen as they mount up and head out across the hot terrain.

Madelaine is relieved when after a few hours they reach a section of barren forest. It’s not much, but it will provide shade from the grueling rays of sun beating down on her. For as far as she can see, the land in front of them is covered in scraggly brush and tall trees, and she’s glad to know she’ll have a long break from the heat.

When shadows begin to gather on the second night, Madelaine finds herself looking forward to turning in, even if that means having to sleep on the ground again. Just as her eyes begin to cross with fatigue, Henry holds a hand up to her, telling her to stop. Looking at their surroundings, she sees they’ve reached a trickling stream. Being so desperately thirsty, she can’t imagine a more pleasing sight.

“We’ll clean up here before we stop for the night,” Henry croaks shortly.

Madelaine is more than open to the idea as she’s sick of the sticky layer of sweat and dirt crusting her body. Directing her horse closer to the stream so he can take a drink while she rinses off, she isn’t prepared for the loud gunshot that blasts through the air. Her horse hadn’t been expecting it either and when the loud bang is accompanied by an explosion of bark from a nearby tree, the four-legged beast is spooked. Madelaine holds on for dear life as her horse rears up on it’s hind legs, though she’s helpless to stay on and she’s dumped headfirst into the shallow stream. The loud splash and piercing scream goes ignored by Henry as he paces speedily through the trees in the direction of the fired gun. Madelaine’s mouth hangs open in shock as the ice cold water seeps into her clothing and prickles sharply against her pale skin. 

She gasps and flails, desperately trying to escape the hellish stream, but when another loud gunshot rings out, she jumps in surprise and stumbles over a rock, effectively landing straight back into the frigid water. By the time she manages to crawl up the muddy bank, she spots Henry’s boots waiting there above her.

“Don’t you know you’re supposed to take your clothes off before you get in the water?” Henry teases blandly, though she can see the corner of his mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile.

Not taking kindly to his taunt, Madelaine shakes off her dripping limbs as she climbs back on to dry land. She twists the fabric of her clothing in her tiny fists, hoping to squeeze out some of the excess water. Now disheveled and wrinkled to hell, Madelaine realizes her attempts to dry her clothes are useless – she’s absolutely soaked to the bone.

“Tie up the horses, I’ll get a fire started,” Henry calls to her as he goes off in search of tinder.

Madelaine obeys, though she grumbles in annoyance to herself as she crafts several roughshod knots in the horses’ reins and tethers them loosely to the trunk of a tree. Sitting on a large rock, she wraps her arms around herself, her teeth clacking together as her wet clothing chills her body. Henry finishes gathering an armful of sticks and dry tree limbs and sets to work on getting the fire started. The moment he has a decent flame going, Madelaine kneels as close to the fire as is safe, desperately trying to warm her shaking body.

“You’ll catch a cold in those wet rags,” Henry observes from across the burning flames.

Realizing that he’s right, Madelaine huffs in frustration when she remembers that the only other clothing she’s brought along is a few dresses – which are less than suitable for riding on horseback. Still, it has to be better than continuing to shiver away in her soggy pants and shirt. Walking to her bag with shaking knees, she pulls out the first dress her hand touches. Taking the acquired cloth, she heads off into the woods when she hears Henry calling after her.

“Don’t go too far,” he warns, though amusement colors his words as he knows the woman is trying to hide her bare body from his view.

The crooked smile lifting Henry’s lips vanishes instantly when Madelaine reappears from the depths of the woods. She’s clad in a flowing, emerald green dress; the corset tied across her torso lifts her breasts, accentuating her bust and nearly causing it to spill from the neckline of the silky frock. Henry can’t seem to take his eyes off the curves of her hips and ass as she drapes her wet garments over a low hanging branch. Before she turns back around, he quickly adjusts himself behind the worn material of his trousers, trying to will his growing erection to abate.

“Get over here,” he growls lowly, acting compulsively as he watches the still-shivering woman.

Madelaine hesitates slightly before approaching Henry cautiously where he lies on the ground. Reaching for her wrist, he pulls her roughly to the ground, situating her back against his chest as he wraps the edges of his thick coat around her and pulls her close. Henry inhales the sweet, flowery scent of her dark tresses, convincing himself that his concern for her well-being and comfort is the only reason for the warm, soft bride of his dead brother being pressed so closely to his body.

• • • • • • • • • •

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to tie a damn knot, girl?!” Henry barks with venom, glaring at Madelaine.

She hangs her head in shame as Henry stands before her with only one horse beside him. In her haste last night, she’d neglected to ensure that she properly tied up the horses and one of them had wandered away in the night. Henry berates her for several more minutes, not relenting in his harsh words until a single tears slips down Madelaine’s rosy cheek. 

With a terse command to gather her things, Henry lifts her onto the back of his steed, handling her roughly and showing no concern for her delicateness as he slams her body down into the saddle. For a moment Madelaine feels bad that Henry now has to walk for the remainder of the trip, but that thought slips from her mind the second Henry swings his own bulky form into the saddle behind her.

Madelaine tries to squirm forward to put some distance between their bodies, but Henry slaps his palm against her abdomen, crushing her up against him. Grabbing the reins, Henry yanks harshly and kicks his spurred heels, urging the horse to walk. The jostling movements of the horse cause Madelaine’s lifted breasts to jiggle enticingly within her tight dress, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Henry. Feeling himself hardening in his britches once more, he finds himself regretting having Madelaine so close to him. With the reins in hand, he rests his wrists against the creases of her hips, not moving any further away from her, though he knows she can likely feel the length of him pressed against her from behind.

Before long, Madelaine begins to shift around uncomfortably. With no petticoat beneath her dress and wearing only a pair of bloomers that leave her legs bare, her skin is beginning to chafe against the smooth leather of the saddle. Henry notices her fidgety behavior, gathering the reins into one hand and using his free hand to press against her stomach and still her wiggling to ask her what’s wrong. 

Sympathetic to her discomfort, he decides to stop and take a short break. Leading the horse into a patch of shade, Henry slides gracefully from the saddle and before he can offer her a hand, Madelaine is tumbling down right beside him. He manages to catch her before she falls to the ground, catching a decent glimpse of her smooth legs as the skirt of her dress lifts around her. Madelaine clings to Henry’s body as she regains her balance, her cheeks tinged red as she smiles shyly at him.

Being this close, Madelaine is struck with how handsome Henry is with his rugged looks and even his brooding personality. Her thighs clench indiscriminately as she finds herself wondering what Henry looks like beneath all his layers of heavy clothing. Trailing her hand over his firm chest, she slips around the back of his neck and threads her nimble fingers through the bits of graying hair that curl at the nape. She tugs the short tresses daringly as she leans up to nip at the line of his jaw, and that’s all it takes to prompt a heated reaction from Henry. He whirls around, pulling her away from his horse and pinning her against the rough bark of a wide tree.

“I sure hope you can ride a man better than you ride a horse,” he grunts before bending forward to claim Madelaine’s plump lips.

Henry attacks her mouth, nipping at her lips and pressing his tongue against hers as she moans softly beneath him. The edge of his hat catches on the tree she’s presses against and it falls off his head, inviting Madelaine to drag her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. She pulls him closer, enticing him to shift his exploring lips along the length of her slender neck. She tips her head, allowing him access to the soft skin there. Henry thrusts his pelvis against Madelaine, letting her feel the length and girth of his hardened member even through the material of his pants.

“I’m going to make you forget all about my brother,” he promises with a whiskey-smooth whisper.

Madelaine’s chest heaves with a gasp as Henry bunches the material of her dress in his large fists, dragging it up and exposing her shapely legs to his burning gaze. She can’t help the tiny squeak that slips out when she feels his warm, calloused fingertips slithering up her inner thigh. When his touch reaches her damp undergarments, Henry wastes no time yanking the small bloomers down to her knees. Returning to his position between her legs, Henry immediately slips his thick fingers through Madelaine’s sodden lips, watching as he sweeps over every inch of her folds.

“Such a warm little flower,” he breathes into her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and biting gently.

When Henry plunges his long middle finger into her slippery hole, her knees nearly give out. Using only the hand knuckle-deep in her cunt, Henry manages to keep her upright. He pumps his hand, dragging his finger in and out of her clenching body with deep, fluid movements. Before long, Madelaine is digging her nails into his shoulders and dripping sweet nectar all over his palm and he can’t hold out any longer. Jerking his hand away, Henry flicks his tongue across the musky fluids trailing down his hand, holding Madelaine’s gaze as he swiftly unfastens his trousers and demands that she remove her underwear. When he lowers his pants enough to pull out his thick length, her eyes widen at the sheer size of him.

“Don’t worry, you can take it all, Princess. You’re more than ready,” Henry reassures her as he reaches for her thigh.

One hand lifts Madelaine’s thigh against his hip while the other encircles his throbbing length and directs it towards her awaiting pussy. Henry presses the wide head gently against her entrance, groaning when it slips inside and Madelaine’s delicious heat engulfs him. She cries out as Henry’s girth stretches her body almost painfully, reveling in the aching pressure of him buried inside of her. 

Too ravenous to be gentle, Henry drives his hips forward, impaling Madelaine with every inch of his shaft. She moans shakily when the coarse hair at the base of his cock causes a pleasurable friction against her swollen clit. Henry grabs a handful of her round ass, clasping the flesh tightly as he lifts her onto the toes of the foot remaining on the ground and pounds into her with unforgiving force.

“You’re just starved for it, ain’t ya?” he growls through clenched teeth, empowered and incited by the way the younger woman is falling apart in his arms.

“Ohh, Henry,” she wails in need. “Give it to me. Take me.”

With the power of his punishing thrusts, Henry loses his grip on Madelaine and drops her to the ground. Removing her hold around him, he regretfully slides his slicked length from within her and takes a step back. He whips the maroon duster from his shoulders and lays it haphazardly against the forest floor. Turning his attention back to the wanton woman braced against the tree, he tucks his fingers into the neckline of her dress, yanking harshly and rending the material almost to her belly button. Her breasts spill out and quiver with each quick breath she takes, tempting Henry to take a hardened, pink nipple into his mouth. One hand massages her ample bosom while he laves the other with his damp tongue.

Once Henry has her mewling and writhing, he takes Madelaine into his arms again. He lifts her off her feet, dropping her exposed body onto the soft surface of his discarded coat. Bracing himself over her, Henry wedges himself between her twitching thighs, determined to see them both through to an intense climax. He enters her sodden core again, sharing in a deeply satisfied moan with her as her walls squeeze him snugly. He sets a brutal pace at once, jostling Madelaine’s whole body and jiggling her full breasts in a lewd display.

“I should take you home to your family, cunt dripping with my cum,” Henry snarls as he nears his release. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Madelaine tosses her head from side to side, cheeks heating up at Henry’s filthy assessment and the truth of it. She’s desperate for him and even more so for the orgasm he seems more than happy to deliver. Slipping a hand between her parted thighs, she presses her fingers to the bundle of nerves there, behaving more shamelessly than she ever has before. 

The forbidden thrill of fucking her dead husband’s brother has her pussy absolutely drenched, easing Henry’s way as he hammers her body mercilessly. With a long, low whine, Madelaine finally reaches her peak, her body growing taut and her muscles snapping her thighs around Henry’s canting hips as she covers his grinding dick in her sticky cream.

“Damnit, just like that,” Henry groans as she grows impossibly tighter around him. “Get my dick nice and wet, Princess.”

Henry continues to fuck her through her orgasm, spreading her thighs further apart as her over-sensitive body squirms beneath him. He slams his hips into hers, paying no mind to her small cries as he bombards her with pleasure. Just as he feels his impending release, Henry rolls over, lifting Madelaine’s body so she’s sitting astride him, his pulsating dick still buried inside her to the hilt.

“Ride me,” he demands darkly, gripping her hips to guide her frantic movement.

She bounces enthusiastically, moaning loudly and calling Henry’s name as his length pummels her body from below. As Henry cries out, Madelaine increases her speed, sliding her rippling walls up and down Henry’s dick with impressive speed as she begs him to fill her. 

Before long, Henry latches on to her waist, pulling her all the way down onto him and holding her still as the first warm explosion of cum coats her insides. She swivels her hips slowly, enjoying the heat of his thick seed pouring into her. Henry holds her there for a long moment, glorifying in his own climax before flipping Madelaine onto her back and slipping his cream-coated and softening cock from her wrecked pussy.

“God damn,” he exclaims tiredly. “You know how long I have waited for this very moment?“

Madelaine struggles to control her breathing as Henry positions himself between her thighs and uses his thumbs to spread her lower lips, exposing her dripping center and watching in rapture as his seed spills from her spent body. Feeling corrupted, delightfully filthy, and fully satisfied, Madelaine begins to right her rumpled clothing. 

Lifting up on to her knees, she can’t help taking advantage of her position as she reaches out for Henry’s hips. She takes his half-hard dick into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the smooth flesh and licking off every drop of their combined fluids. She releases him with a wet pop, looking up innocently as Henry places a finger beneath her chin.

“Next time, you’re gonna take me down your throat, sweetheart,” he murmurs wickedly.

Henry fixes his own clothes then, tucking himself back into his pants and grabbing his fallen hat from the ground to plop it onto Madelaine’s head before offering her a hand. He lifts her from the ground with an unfamiliar smile that reveals the deep dimples hiding beneath his facial hair. Pulling her into his chest, Henry kisses her dominantly before directing her to his waiting stallion as he dons his long coat once more.

He eases her into the saddle more gently this time and climbs on behind her as they take off into the sunset. The pain Madelaine was feeling earlier is nothing compared to the tenderness her well-used body is feeling now as she bounces in the saddle. Though her aches are long forgotten when Henry slides a hand beneath her dirtied skirt and between her sticky thighs.


End file.
